


As Long As You Remember You're My Home

by pietromavximoff



Category: Captain America, Marvel, Stucky - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:57:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6164889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pietromavximoff/pseuds/pietromavximoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint goes to Steve and Bucky's apartment stressing over the tiniest details about his and Nat's wedding ft. Stucky fluffiness and hoodie Clint</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long As You Remember You're My Home

When Steve got home, their apartment was empty. He hadn’t really expected Bucky to be there, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling of disappointment that he always got when Bucky wasn’t there. It was so empty without him, and even though he was only one person, he was the only person Steve wanted. He knew he probably left to get coffee, or pick up dinner, or something trivial that Steve could’ve done if Bucky had asked, but Bucky never asked. It was a mark of how independent he was determined to become, now that things had finally settled enough to let him and Steve live in their Brooklyn apartment with hardly any interruptions apart from the occasional Avengers mission.  
Steve set his keys on the kitchen bench just as he heard a knock on the door and turned eagerly, first thinking of Bucky then remembering Bucky had his own set of keys. It turned out, as he set across the kitchen and opened the door, to be Clint. He looked more tired than he usually did, although he had been like this for the past month, so Steve really couldn’t compare to before because it seemed, this had become his natural state.  
‘Mind if I rant?’ Clint barely waited for a response as he walked in.  
Steve smiled as he closed the door and followed Clint into the living room. Clint’s hoodie was damp and a soft patter started on the big glass windows opposite them as they sat down.  
‘Go ahead.’ Steve watched Clint, amused, as he wrung his hands together. He had done this three times this week already.  
Weddings weren’t a common thing with them. Then again, common things weren’t common things with them. Nat and Clint decided on an April wedding, the guest list small and the ceremony simple. Sam had the task of making sure that no-one accidentally spilled the location to the paparazzi, and he was watching Tony like a hawk, who had a penchant for talking to reporters while drunk, and Thor, who was always delighted to talk to anyone who showed an interest in Asgard, was also under supervision. Wanda and Nat had a bet on who’d spill the location first, and although they’d all prefer not to have to deal with the nosy reporters, Nat was not-so-subtly buying Tony more drinks when he looked like he was finished for the night, and Wanda occasionally pointed journalists in the direction of Thor, tipping them off with leading questions to ask about Asgard, both of them deciding that bragging rights was more important than privacy. In the midst of their betting war, Clint was finding a million excuses to go over to Steve and Bucky’s apartment and obsess neurotically over tiny wedding details that Nat probably hadn’t thought about twice. And apparently Steve and Bucky had taken on the job of listening and keeping him calm.

Steve heard the jingling of keys at the door and stood up reflexively, his stomach untightening. Bucky, it turned out, had come back with dinner.  
He grinned as he saw Steve, throwing his keys onto the nearest thing and pulling him in for a kiss before saying, without even peering into the living room, ‘hey, Clint.’ They walked into the living room, Bucky holding up a paper bag and shaking it. ‘Dinner’s on us.’  
Clint laughed and stood up to greet Bucky. ‘I swear this is the last time I come to you and bitch about unimportant details about the wedding.’ When Steve and Bucky both raised an eyebrow, he added, ‘this week.’  
Bucky shook his head and went into the kitchen, his hand trailing across Steve’s back as he walked away. Steve felt a shiver through his spine whenever Bucky did that, because that’s what he used to do when they were younger. But Bucky didn’t seem to remember it, and Steve didn’t know which he’d prefer – Bucky doing that out of familiar habit or because he just felt like it. He was still waiting for Bucky to do something so specific that Steve couldn’t mistake it for anything other than what it was. He was still waiting for Bucky to remember it all. He’d wait for the rest of his life, if that’s what it took.  
‘Okay, I know that yesterday you guys told me that Nat hasn’t said anything to you about the flowers,’ Clint began, lounging back on the couch, as Bucky came back in carrying three boxes filled with noddles, setting them on the table in front of them, ‘but are you sure she likes them? I mean, she’s not just saying that because I picked them –’  
‘Steve.’ Bucky began in a pained voice, as he jumped onto the couch, next to Steve, his hand over his already closed eyes, ‘if Clint keeps at this I’m afraid I won’t live to see this wedding he is so dearly preoccupied over. And neither will he.’ He glared at Clint in annoyance.  
Clint frowned like he half heard Bucky.  
‘I mean I’ll kill you.’ Bucky added, clearly not amused by Clint’s lack of reaction.  
Steve smiled as he reached forward to grab a box, because Bucky was able to joke about that part of himself that he had hated for a long time. He glanced at Clint, who had rolled his eyes. Steve looked back at Bucky, shrugging helplessly and Bucky took the opportunity to throw a balled up piece of paper at Clint.  
Clint barely recognised it hitting him in the face as he went on. ‘I just don’t know if they’re the kind of flowers you’d have at a wedding –’  
‘Roses.’ Bucky shook his head in disbelief at his friend. ‘You don’t know if roses are the kind of flowers you have at a wedding?’ Bucky looked to Steve, then placed his hands in the air in surrender. ‘I can’t. And I forgot forks.’ he announced, getting up and patting Clint on the head before disappearing into the kitchen.  
‘I got Bucky roses for our first date all those years ago. Deep red ones.’ Steve offered as a piece of advice. ‘He got me yellow ones, three tied together with a piece of string, said they’d run out of other ones, but I know that was his excuse cause he thought I didn’t like them when really I just didn’t know how to tell him how much I loved them. The kind of thing you do for the person you love.’  
There was a shatter from the kitchen, making Steve and Clint turn to the noise, then, a second later, Bucky called apologetically, ‘dropped a glass, sorry!’  
Clint turned back to Steve, raising his eyebrows in appreciation at his story.  
‘Trust me, Nat’ll love the roses.’ Steve tried not to smile at the memory of Nat asking him the same thing about the colour scheme of the centerpieces.  
In the silence that followed, Steve sat back and let himself remember the feeling of his and Bucky’s first date, how young they were, how much they didn’t know. It made his heart ache to think of where they were now, how much had changed, how lucky they were.  
Bucky came back, his hands shaking slightly as he began to eat. ‘You okay?’ Steve asked as he watched him.  
‘Cut my hand.’ Bucky grinned at his own clumsiness, but Steve didn’t see a cut.

The three of them sat there for another hour, talking about other small details of the wedding, then Clint stood up, putting his hoodie up as the rain outside got louder.  
‘Thanks for that you two, I should go.’ He announced, clapping each of them on the back in thanks before they walked him out. As soon as Steve closed the door, he felt Bucky’s hands on his waist, spinning him around and placing a sot kiss on the corner of his mouth.  
‘Mhm.’ Steve made a noise, half content and half a whine as Bucky pulled away, walking to the kitchen. Steve followed him.  
‘I, uh, wanna show you something.’ Bucky said as Steve reached him, leaning on the cool bench, eyes wide.  
Steve bit his lip with curiosity as Bucky reached down and, before Steve knew it, he was holding roses, three yellow buds tied together with twine. The kind you remember. The kind you only give to people you love. He felt his heart quicken, his chest tightening as he looked up to Bucky, mouth unable to form anything except, ‘you remember?’  
Bucky’s eyes were glassy. ‘I remember. I didn’t when I brought them, but I knew there was something about them, something from a lifetime ago. They meant something.’  
‘When I told Clint – ‘  
Bucky nodded, half smiling. ‘I remembered.’  
Steve finally let out the breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding, laughing with relief as he moved to Bucky, and it wasn’t quick enough that he was able to wrap his arms around him.  
Bucky was breathing hard into his neck, eyes squinted shut because if they were open he’d be crying. It was the feeling of Steve’s hot tear on his neck that made him pull away enough to crash his lips onto Steve’s. He knew that was one thing he’d never forget; from when he’d pulled him out of the water and left him on the riverbed, lips wet and struggling to let air in, to now, lips soft and wanting his. It was home. And he knew that no matter how bad things got, as long as Steve was there, he’d always be home.


End file.
